


my best days are with you

by nightswatch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 22:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3463601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Valentine's Day is a stressful day for everyone - for flower shop owners, for those who are planning on confessing their love for their best friend and those who have to figure out a way to get to their boyfriend before the day is over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my best days are with you

**8:00 AM**

Feuilly had a bit of a love-hate-relationship with Valentine’s Day. To him, Valentine’s Day meant a lot of customers. There was hardly a better day for a flower shop owner. There probably wasn’t a worse day for a flower shop owner either.

He’d basically been up all night. Bahorel had been up all night. Jehan had been up all night as well, although he’d left to visit his boyfriend around two in the morning, promising he’d be back by the time they opened. He still wasn’t here, though, and Feuilly was getting increasingly nervous. Bahorel was leaving to make deliveries in about an hour and Feuilly needed Jehan to be here by then. Musichetta, even though it was her day off, was going to join them as well, but Feuilly knew that he’d still be wishing that he’d hired at least a hundred more people to help out.

Feuilly sighed, trying to mentally prepare himself for the hell of a day he was going to have. Because Valentine’s Day didn’t just mean a lot of customers. It also meant grumpy customers, customers who thought they were the only ones on the planet who wanted to buy flowers today, customers who complained because they had to wait in line. Rude customers. Customers who made it hard for Feuilly to not fucking lose it.

“All set?” Bahorel asked, nodding at the store window. There were already people waiting outside.

Usually they didn’t open until nine, but they had to keep up with the competition and there were obviously people who were in need of flowers at eight o’clock in the morning. “Yeah, I think we’re ready. You wanna do the honors?”

“Nah, you do it,” Bahorel gave him a pat on the back, “ _boss_.”

Feuilly snorted. “Give Jehan a call for me, yeah?” he said and went to turn over the _OPEN_ sign on the door.

* * *

Grantaire groaned into the vague direction of where his phone was ringing, cursing colorfully as he stumbled out of bed to fish it out of the pocket of the jeans he’d worn the day before. Maybe he shouldn’t have carelessly tossed them into a corner.

“What?” he answered. If it was his boss calling him he was _so_ fucked.

“Good morning to you, too.”

Thankfully not his boss but Enjolras. “Sorry,” Grantaire muttered and crawled back into bed. He smiled. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Yes, happy Valentine’s Day,” Enjolras said. And he sounded nervous. Which was bad. Because Enjolras didn’t sound nervous. Not when he was just calling Grantaire. He might have when they’d started dating four years ago but that was beside the point. There must be some reason. And Grantaire had a feeling that it had something to do with the reason why Enjolras was calling him at eight in the morning on a Saturday.

Actually Enjolras should be on his way home right now. Because they were having dinner tonight. Unless they weren’t. “Oh no, what happened?”

“I’m _so_ sorry,” Enjolras said with a sigh. “Something came up.”

“You’ve been in DC for a week, what the fuck came up _today_? On the day you were supposed to leave?” Grantaire asked.

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras said again.

Of course he was sorry. Grantaire knew that he was and if whatever it was that had come up wasn’t important, Enjolras wouldn’t be calling him right now. “You’re not having dinner with me tonight, are you?”

Enjolras took a deep breath. “No,” he whispered. “Grantaire, I’m so–”

“Sorry, I know,” Grantaire said, he pulled the sheets up to his chin, seriously considering just staying here and pouting all day. “So, who are you ditching me for?”

“Lamarque is having a reception tonight. He invited me.”

“He invited you this morning?”

“His assistant just called me and asked if I wanted to come. I couldn’t say no. You know how long I’ve been trying to get a chance to talk to him.”

“I know,” Grantaire said. “It’s fine. You’ll come back tomorrow and we’ll have Valentine’s Day a day late.”

“But it’s not the same and you planned this whole thing.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Grantaire mumbled. “The food’s not gonna go bad in twenty-four hours. And in the end Valentine’s Day is just a regular day, isn’t it? It’s not a big deal.”

“You’re not angry?”

“Of course not,” Grantaire said. Although he was a little disappointed. Just a little bit.

“Oh,” Enjolras said. “Well...”

“I know that this means a lot to you.” Well, he could still stay in bed and pout. Enjolras would never know. “Have fun and send me a picture of your suit. With you in it.”

Enjolras laughed. “I will. And maybe I can drive home after the party.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s a four-hour drive. Just stay there for one more night and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Enjolras said lowly. “I’ll call you in the afternoon, okay?”

“Sure, that sounds good.”

“And, Grantaire?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” Enjolras mumbled. “And I really am so–”

“I love you, too,” Grantaire interrupted. “I’ll talk to you later.”

They said goodbye and Grantaire proceeded to cocoon himself in their bedsheets, burying his face in Enjolras’ pillow. He really missed him and even though he hadn’t noticed as much during the week, since they’d talked on the phone every day for as long as they could, right now he was very much aware of how empty their bed had been all week without Enjolras there.

He’d really been looking forward to having Enjolras back, not even because it was Valentine’s Day, just because he’d missed having him around and because he wanted to cuddle up next to him again. It was strange how quickly he’d got used to living with Enjolras.

And apparently he’d also got quite used to not having to spend Valentine’s Day on his own. Well, it really was just a regular day. But Grantaire would really rather spend it with Enjolras than without him. And since Enjolras obviously couldn’t come to him, Grantaire might just have to go to Enjolras.

 

**9:00 AM**

“Well, have a good day,” Musichetta said, first kissing Joly, then turning to Bossuet. “I’ll see both of you later.”

“Have a good day, too,” Bossuet said, giving Musichetta a tight hug, winking at Joly over her shoulder.

Joly winked right back at him. They had big plans for when Musichetta was gone. He was quite proud of how stealthy they’d been about it. They’d plotted this whole romantic dinner, had looked up recipes while Musichetta had been out working and had ordered flowers.

Now they just had to do the shopping. Because Musichetta would have definitely noticed all those ingredients in their kitchen and would have wondered what they were for. And that would have totally destroyed their super secret plan.

They usually didn’t have too many secrets – they just shared everything. But this was meant to be a surprise, so they had to act accordingly.

So when Musichetta turned to leave, Joly wrapped a scarf around her neck and said, “Thanks for breakfast. See you later.” He waved and smiled, just like Bossuet did, both of them letting out a deep sigh once she was out the door.

“Okay,” Bossuet said, giving Joly a quick kiss, “you print out the recipes, I’ll get the shopping list.”

* * *

Combeferre looked up from his cereal, frowning. He hadn’t really expected anyone to come knocking on his door on Saturday morning. He knew only very few people who tended to get up this early. One of them was currently in another city. Or maybe on his way home right now.

When he eventually opened the door, he was surprised the find Grantaire staring back at him.

“Good morning,” Combeferre said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hey,” Grantaire said, smiling sheepishly. He looked liked he’d pulled on clothes at random and had run all the way over to Combeferre’s apartment. “I need your help.”

“Oh...” Combeferre took a step back, ushering Grantaire inside. “What do you need?”

“Your car,” Grantaire said, tugging his fingers through his curls. He continued before Combeferre could tell him that his sister _and_ his car were currently on the way to Jersey. “Enjolras isn’t coming home until tomorrow and I really want to go to DC to see him, but apparently there are no tickets for anything, well, unless I want to pay for a first class plane ticket, but yeah, everyone is going somewhere to see their loved ones and I’m stuck here, but I thought, well, you have a car and if you don’t need it today, I could drive down to DC and surprise Enjolras.”

“My sister has my car this weekend,” Combeferre only said, already trying to think up solutions. “Maybe you could borrow Feuilly’s car, although he might need it today to make deliveries. But it probably wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

“Right,” Grantaire said, making a face.

“Why isn’t Enjolras coming home?” Combeferre asked, slowly walking back into the kitchen, Grantaire following at his heels. “Coffee?”

“Please,” Grantaire said. He accepted the mug Combeferre handed to him with a smile. “Enjolras was invited to a party by Mr. Lamarque. He said he couldn’t leave. I mean, I get it, this is really important to him. Honestly, I’m surprised that he hasn’t called you yet.”

“He’s probably busy,” Combeferre mused. “I’m sure he’d be happy to take you to that party, though.”

Grantaire shrugged. “I don’t even want to go to the party with him, I just want to see him.”

“I’m really sorry that I can’t help you,” Combeferre said.

“It’s fine, I’ll figure something out.” Grantaire gulped down half of his coffee, sighing contently. Apparently he hadn’t had his morning coffee yet. “If all else fails, I’ll just borrow Courfeyrac’s vespa. What are you doing tonight? Any plans?” He wrinkled his nose. “Sorry, I know that’s not a good question to ask single people.”

Combeferre laughed, ignoring the anxiety that suddenly flared up in his stomach. “I’m actually going to hang out with Courfeyrac.”

Grantaire grinned. “Are you?”

“Yes,” Combeferre said, fiddling with his glasses. “Since we’re both not seeing anyone we thought it was a good idea.”

“Are you cooking for him?”

“I am, yes.” Combeferre smiled. He was going to make chicken fajitas, Courfeyrac’s favorite. Courfeyrac had promised he’d be taking care of dessert.

“Well, nothing can go wrong then,” Grantaire said, winking at him.

Combeferre raised his eyebrows. “It’s not a date,” he said, because that was certainly what Grantaire was implying. Not that Combeferre would mind going out on a date with Courfeyrac, but that was not what this was.

“Maybe not officially.”

Combeferre sighed and took a sip of his coffee instead of replying.

“Come on,” Grantaire said, smiling knowingly.

“I wouldn’t be opposed. But what if he doesn’t...” Combeferre trailed off. What if he told Courfeyrac how he felt and completely destroyed their friendship because Courfeyrac didn’t feel the same way?

“He does,” Grantaire said. “And everyone knows that he does. Well, everyone except for you, it seems.”

Combeferre sighed. He’d already had a similar conversation with Enjolras the night before and surprisingly he and Grantaire seemed to agree on this matter. “I’m just scared, you know?”

“Yeah, I know what that feels like,” Grantaire said. “And it sucks, but once you manage to ask him out, it’s totally gonna be worth it.”

Grantaire had a point. Combeferre knew that. Maybe he should just get over himself. Obviously that was easier said than done, but tonight was probably a good time to bring it up. “Okay,” he mumbled.

“Okay?” Grantaire asked.

“I’m going to tell him tonight,” Combeferre said. Really, saying it out loud helped. Because he knew that Grantaire would gladly kick his ass if he chickened out.

“Let us know how it went,” Grantaire said and quickly emptied his coffee. “And by _us_ I mean Enjolras and me, because I’m totally going to figure out a way to get to him. Right now.”

“Good luck.” Combeferre smiled at him. “And don’t forget to bring your suit. Because if you get there in time, Enjolras will want you to go to that party with him.”

Grantaire grinned. “I will. Good luck tonight.”

Well, Combeferre was certainly going to need it.

 

**10:00 AM**

Grantaire knew that it was wise to approach flower shops with caution on Valentine’s Day. He’d told Feuilly in advance to please set aside four roses for him and that he’d pick them up sometime during the day. He’d thought he could put it off until the afternoon, but now he didn’t just need his flowers, he was also in dire need of a car.

Unsurprisingly the shop was packed, people were picking up their orders or just now buying flowers. Feuilly was behind the counter, Jehan was putting together bouquets, and Grantaire spotted Musichetta carrying ready orders from the back to the counter. When he approached the counter, Feuilly waved at him, grinning wryly.

Grantaire waved back at him and waited for about fifteen minutes until there was a bit of a lull, then he stepped up to Feuilly. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“I feel like every single person in the city has bought flowers from me today,” Feuilly said flatly, “and it’s not even noon yet. Your flowers are in the back, I’ll go get them.”

“Actually,” Grantaire said, “there’s something else I need. You have a car, right?”

Feuilly raised his eyebrows. “What do you need my car for?”

“I sort of need to go to DC. To see Enjolras.”

“I thought he was coming home today?”

“No, he got invited to some really important party, so I wanted to go see him, but Combeferre doesn’t have his car this weekend. You’re my last hope.”

“Well, my car’s out back, but I sort of need it, because Bahorel has the van to make deliveries and if we end up getting more orders than he can handle I’ll have to take care of them.” Feuilly shrugged. “If nothing comes up until noon, I suppose you can have it.”

“You’re the best,” Grantaire said and then quickly stepped aside to let Feuilly deal with the customers that had shown up during the very short conversation they’d had.

“Tell Jehan to get your flowers,” Feuilly said, “but don’t ask him how he’s doing.”

Grantaire frowned, but didn’t ask what the hell Feuilly was talking about. He had more important things to do right now. Like making a living. Grantaire made his way over to Jehan, who seemed to be in the process of putting together the most massive bouquet of flowers that Grantaire had ever seen.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Jehan said, looking down at the flowers with a sad smile. “Marius ordered it for Cosette.”

“Holy shit,” Grantaire mumbled. Cosette was definitely going to love it, although Grantaire wasn’t sure if she’d have a big enough vase.

Jehan tied a bow around the bouquet, then he looked up at Grantaire. His eyes were red-rimmed. Grantaire was pretty sure that that was why Feuilly had told him not to ask Jehan how he was doing. “Feuilly said you could get my flowers for me,” Grantaire said instead.

“Ah yeah, your order was four roses, right?” Jehan asked and carefully set down Cosette’s bouquet.

Grantaire nodded. “That’s the one.”

“Follow me,” Jehan said tugged him to the backroom. “I don’t want to be nosy or anything, but why four roses?”

“Well, for our first Valentine’s Day together we said we wouldn’t do anything special and that we wouldn’t buy each other presents, but I felt like I couldn’t show up with nothing, so I bought a rose and for our second Valentine’s Day I got two. Basically I’m just adding one each year.” Grantaire shrugged. “It’s really not that great of a story.”

“No, that’s really sweet,” Jehan said. He picked up Grantaire’s flowers and checked the tag. “Already paid for. Well, here you go.”

“Thanks, man,” Grantaire said and took them from him. “I’ll probably see you later. If Feuilly decides that he doesn’t need his car.”

“What do you need his car for?”

Grantaire only sighed.

 

**11:00 AM**

Courfeyrac groaned and rolled onto his stomach, hiding his face in his pillow. Maybe staying up to binge-watch _Say yes to the dress_ hadn’t been such a great idea.

But he needed to get up. He needed to get up and buy flowers and buy chocolates and wine, and he needed to give himself a pep talk. Because tonight he was going to tell Combeferre. He was really going to tell Combeferre.

He’d promised himself he would many times before. He’d never done it. He’d been scared of Combeferre’s reaction. He still was. Telling Combeferre that he was a little bit in love with him had the potential to mess up _everything_. And that was a lot of potential. In the most negative way possible.

Basically, Courfeyrac was scared shitless.

But he could do this. He’d done it many times before – unsuccessfully, but that really wasn’t a thought he should be dwelling on right now. He’d just have to make sure that he did this right. Although there was obviously nothing he could do if Combeferre just didn’t return his feelings. Which was yet another thought he shouldn’t be dwelling on.

He rolled out of bed instead, took a shower, made sure his hair looked impeccable, because he definitely wasn’t going to have a bad day with impeccable hair. Before he left to buy some flowers, he made himself some breakfast that probably also counted as lunch since it was almost noon.

Feuilly’s flower shop was packed when Courfeyrac got there. He gave Musichetta a quick hug, then he made his way over to Jehan. He needed something special and Jehan knew how to do special. Courfeyrac typed out a couple of _Happy Valentine’s Day_ messages to his friends while he was waiting, then he gave Jehan a hug in greeting. “I need your help.”

“Anytime, darling,” Jehan said, smiling at him. “Do you need flowers, too?”

“Actually the help I need involves flowers,” Courfeyrac said. “I need a bouquet that says something along the lines of _I’ve been in love with you for about fifteen years and I was too much of a coward to say anything until today_.”

“Oh,” Jehan said, his eyes going wide. “You’re going to tell him?”

At this point Courfeyrac wasn’t even surprised that Jehan knew. Apparently everyone did. Even Enjolras had known somehow. “Yes, I’m going to tell him tonight.” Courfeyrac sighed. “Hopefully.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Jehan said and quickly picked up a bunch of roses.

Courfeyrac was about to tell Jehan that he probably shouldn’t be happy for him just yet, because this might go horribly wrong, but then he noticed that Jehan actually looked like he was about to burst into tears, so Courfeyrac took the roses from him, dumped them back into the bucket and dragged Jehan off to the backroom.

“Jehan’s taking a quick break,” he mumbled to Feuilly as they passed him. As soon as they were out of view, Courfeyrac pulled Jehan into a hug, slowly rubbing circles on his back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jehan whispered, “really, everything’s fine, I’m just... in a bad mood.”

“I always thought you liked Valentine’s Day.”

Jehan only sniffled in reply and eventually pulled away, wiping at his eyes. “Remember that guy I was seeing?”

Courfeyrac nodded, already thinking of way to kick that dude’s ass.

“Well, I told him in the very beginning that I don’t date,” Jehan said, twirling the end of his braid around his finger, “and I went to see him last night and he kept going on and on about how much he’d like to go out on a date with me and, well, I told him that I was flattered but that dating just wasn’t interesting to me.”

“And he didn’t like that answer?” Courfeyrac guessed.

Jehan nodded. “Said it wasn’t normal not to have romantic feelings for people and that was that. Obviously it’s for the best that I’m not seeing him anymore, but...”

“I’m sorry,” Courfeyrac said and gave him another hug.

“Well, I guess I’ll be hanging out with Feuilly and Bahorel tonight. They invited me over when I told them what happened this morning.”

“That’s good,” Courfeyrac said and wiped a stray tear off Jehan’s cheek. “Do you want me to go punch that dick in the face?”

“You’re not very good at punching people in the face,” Jehan said, a smile tugging at his lips. “But I do appreciate the sentiment.” He shrugged. “It just sucks, you know? I mean, I told him, but I guess he thought I’d develop feelings for him eventually.”

“Well, it’s definitely not your fault.”

“Yeah, I know. Still sucks,” Jehan mumbled and gave him a nudge. “Anyway, tell me what you’re gonna say to Combeferre.”

Courfeyrac groaned. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it so much and I came up with so many things to say and now they all sound kinda ridiculous.”

“Well,” Jehan said, taking him by the hand, “I’ll get you some really nice flowers and you’ll just take it from there.”

Courfeyrac nodded. “Thank you,” he mumbled. “And you’re okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Jehan said, smiling at him. “Don’t worry.”

Courfeyrac frowned, promising himself that he’d check up on Jehan tomorrow. But now Jehan obviously needed to get back to work and Courfeyrac needed to, well, maybe panic a little. Perhaps it would have been better if Valentine’s Day had fallen on a weekday this year, because then he’d at least be distracted by his work. He’d just have to watch romcoms all day and hope that his life would turn out to be like one as well, happy ending and all.

 

**Noon**

“We really need to get going,” Joly said sternly, but didn’t move an inch.

Somehow, and Joly still wasn’t so sure how, they’d ended up back in bed. They’d got a tad sidetracked while writing their shopping list and now Bossuet was lying next to him with a lazy smile on his face, humming lowly.

“Seriously,” Joly said. He grinned when Bossuet reached out, his fingers slowly wandering down his chest, further down and – “ _Seriously_ ,” Joly said again, batting at Bossuet’s hand.

Bossuet stuck out his bottom lip. “We still have more than enough time.”

“But we also need a shower and our shopping list still isn’t finished.”

“Well, we can finish it in bed,” Bossuet said, giving Joly a sloppy kiss before he jumped out of bed. “I’ll go get it.” He strutted off, swaying his hips. When he reached the door, he looked back at Joly, winking at him, tossing his non-existent mane over his shoulder before he blew him a kiss.

Joly giggled and threw a pillow at him. “We’re in a hurry.”

Bossuet snorted and was quick to return with their shopping list. It still took them ages to finish it, because obviously they had to make time for kisses in between, but half an hour later Joly deemed their list complete.

“Okay, so here’s the plan,” Joly said, putting on his serious face, “we’ll have a quick shower, then we’ll heat up some leftovers for lunch. And I’ll go buy all of this,” he held up the shopping list, “and you’ll set the table, get out the candles and pick up the flowers. And make sure Musichetta doesn’t see you.”

“Sure, I’ll just put on my Batman costume from last Halloween and say that I’m picking up flowers for Robin,” Bossuet said dryly.

“I’m sure you’ll figure out something that’s less conspicuous.”

Bossuet grinned and put an arm around him. “I’m sure,” he said. “So, I have one more question. About that shower. Are we taking that together or what?”

“Yes, but quickly.”

“Very quickly,” Bossuet said, nodding gravely. He grinned and leaned in to give Joly another kiss, his hand slowly wandering down his back. “And I think we can stay in bed for ten more minutes, right?”

Joly’s breath hitched when Bossuet nipped at his bottom lip. He could try to convince Bossuet that they’d be in such a hurry later on one more time, because they sure as hell wouldn’t make it out of bed in ten minutes, but then again, he could not. “Right,” Joly said, smiling against Bossuet’s lips as he pulled him closer.

 

**1:00 PM**

_Feuilly: looks like you’re a lucky little shit_

_Feuilly: come get the car_

_Grantaire: !!!!!_

He really was a lucky little shit. Grantaire had spent the last couple of hours contemplating what he’d do if he couldn’t borrow Feuilly’s car after all. He’d figured out that he didn’t really have too many options and he’d actually been trying to accept that he’d probably spend the evening without Enjolras. But it seemed that he didn’t have to mope for the rest of the day after all.

Grantaire power-walked over to Feuilly’s and burst into the store with a huge grin on his face. The Valentine’s Day rush seemed to have died down a bit and Grantaire could get through to the counter without being afraid of knocking over flowers or people.

Feuilly handed him the keys. “Do not crash my car,” he greeted him. “Do not roll over old ladies with my car.”

“I wouldn’t–”

Feuilly shook his head and gave him a stern look, effectively interrupting him. “Do not have sex in my car.”

Grantaire raised his eyebrows. “Seriously?”

“I wouldn’t be saying it if it hadn’t happened before,” Feuilly said lowly. “Don’t do any of that and we’re good.” He grinned. “And don’t do anything that’ll end up on the list of things I tell people not to do when they borrow my car.”

“I’ll try,” Grantaire said, letting out a shriek when someone’s arms wrapped around him all of a sudden. “What the...”

“Grantaire, haven’t seen you in a while,” Musichetta said and ruffled his hair.

“I met up with Joly and Bossuet on Wednesday, it’s not my fault that you weren’t there,” Grantaire said and poked her in the ribs.

Musichetta laughed and took a step back. “So, I hear you’re going to DC?”

“I am, thanks to Feuilly.”

“Yeah, I’m nice like that,” Feuilly said, grinning at the two of them before he turned to the elderly man that had stepped up to the counter.

“What are you doing tonight?” Grantaire asked Musichetta. He knew that Joly and Bossuet had been planning something, but they hadn’t filled him in on the details. He also didn’t know if Musichetta was in on it, so it was better to just ask.

“We’re just gonna have a quiet night in. Takeout, movies, cuddling, you know the drill,” she said, her lips curling into a smile. “Although the boys have been whispering a lot lately, so maybe we’re not.”

Grantaire snorted. “They’ve been whispering, huh?”

“I didn’t eavesdrop,” Musichetta said. “I just noticed, that’s all.”

“I see,” Grantaire said. He held up the keys. “I should get going, I want to make it to DC before Enjolras leaves for that super important party. Have fun tonight.”

“You too.” Musichetta gave him a hug and then walked back over to Jehan.

Grantaire thanked Feuilly again, gave Jehan a hug in passing, glad that he looked a lot happier than he had a couple of hours ago, and then drove Feuilly’s car back to his and Enjolras’ apartment. Heeding Combeferre’s advice, he got his suit and the flowers he’d bought for Enjolras, then tossed some other stuff he might need into a duffle bag and left as quickly as he could.

He hurried back to the car, tossed his belongings on the passenger seat and put the address of Enjolras’ hotel into Feuilly’s GPS, hoping that Enjolras was actually still staying at the same hotel and hadn’t relocated for the night. He took a deep breath and then pulled out of his parking spot, heading towards the New Jersey Turnpike.

 

**2:00 PM**

Bahorel grinned as he pulled into the parking lot of Cosette’s beauty parlor. Well, technically it wasn’t Cosette’s, she was just the manager, but it was all the same to Bahorel.

He’d been looking forward to his all day. This was his last delivery, at least for this tour. He’d pick up more flowers in a bit, but first he got to deliver the monstrosity of a flower bouquet that Marius had ordered for Cosette.

Valentine’s Day was generally a great day for delivering flowers. Because mostly he was delivering _I love you_ bouquets and not _I’m sorry I fucked up_ bouquets that no one actually wanted. And for some reason people were five hundred percent more delighted when they got flowers on Valentine’s Day than on any other given day.

He took Cosette’s flowers out of the back of the van and carried them inside, pushing the door open with his back. “Delivery for Miss Fauchelevent.”

“Oh, of fuck’s sake,” Cosette’s colleague, Eponine, whispered.

See, they knew Bahorel here. Marius often had flowers delivered to Cosette, just because he wanted to do something nice for her. Eponine, Bahorel had quickly figured out, was the only one who didn’t immediately start cooing when he popped in to bring Cosette her flowers.

“Oh my god,” Cosette said. Bahorel could barely see her through the flowers. “Can you put it down on the counter?”

“Sure,” Bahorel muttered and did as he’d been told.

One of Cosette’s colleagues let out a deep sigh. “I’m pretty sure that’s the biggest one yet.”

“It’s huge,” Cosette said, smelling the roses with a happy smile. “I’m glad that Marius is picking me up from work later on. He’ll get to carry these home.”

“I’m sure he’ll be overjoyed,” Bahorel said, grinning down at Cosette. “Well, I better get going. Have a good day.”

“Aw, come on,” Cosette said, gently pushing him over to one of the chairs, “you can spare ten minutes, right? I’ve got a really great nail polish that’s the exact pink of your shirt.” She smiled brightly. “I’ll do it on the house.”

She did every time Bahorel came by – the last time he’d left with little flowers on his fingernails, but he definitely didn’t have time for that today. “Make it super quick,” Bahorel said, winking at her as he sat down.

 

**3:00 PM**

Marius: _help me!!!!_

Courfeyrac: _itll be fine_

Marius: _NO_

Courfeyrac snorted. He was actually in need of a little help as well, but it was nothing that Marius could be of assistance with. He probably wouldn’t be able to help Marius either.

Courfeyrac: _look ill come by later_

Courfeyrac: _then u can cry a bit_

Courfeyrac: _do u want me to get some tequila??_

Marius: _no, just hurry up, I think I’m dying_

Courfeyrac: _ur not dying, ur just scared_

Marius: _:-(_

Courfeyrac: _give me half an hour ok_

Marius: _thank you!!_

Courfeyrac: _< 3_

Courfeyrac sighed and pocketed his phone, trying to concentrate on the matter at hand. Which was buying chocolate. There was way too much of it. How on earth was he supposed to decide which heart-shaped box of chocolates he was supposed to buy when there were about a billion to choose from?

“Having trouble deciding?”

Courfeyrac quickly turned around and found Joly standing behind him, casually leaning on his cane, a broad grin on his face.

“I...” Courfeyrac shrugged. “Yeah. I just want to get something nice for Combeferre. Because he invited me over for dinner.”

Joly smiled at the mention of Combeferre’s name, but didn’t otherwise comment on it. He just hummed thoughtfully and scanned the shelf. “Well, Combeferre likes dark chocolate, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, and that limits the choice to about a hundred possibilities,” Courfeyrac grumbled and picked up a box that had chocolate hearts with different fillings in it.

Joly gave him a nudge. “Well, he didn’t invite you over because he wanted you to get him chocolate.” He reached for a box with chocolate truffles and put them in his shopping cart. It looked so easy when Joly did it, but Courfeyrac felt like his whole life depended on the chocolate he picked.

 Courfeyrac sighed, peering into Joly’s shopping cart as if that would somehow help him decide. It looked like he had big plans for the evening. “Are you cooking for Musichetta and Bossuet?”

“Well, Bossuet and I are cooking for Musichetta,” Joly said with a smile. “We decided to split up. Bossuet is trying to get the flowers from Feuilly without Musichetta noticing. We didn’t know that she’d be helping him out, but I’m sure Feuilly won’t mind handing them over at the backdoor or something.”

Courfeyrac laughed. “Well, I hope everything works out.”

“And you have fun with Combeferre,” Joly said, tapping on the box Courfeyrac was still holding. “Just take these. In the end it’s all just chocolate.”

Right. And he also didn’t have time for staring at this godforsaken shelf for another fifteen minutes because he needed to leave and go convince Marius that he wasn’t actually about to face certain death. He was actually glad that Marius had texted him, because that meant that he wouldn’t spend the next few hours thinking about Combeferre.

Courfeyrac quickly said goodbye to Joly, picked up a bottle of wine and some cupcakes on his way to check-out, and then hurried home to dump his shopping there before he went to Marius’.

 

**4:00 PM**

Grantaire checked the time, sighing. He was nearly there. Well, it’d still be another hour at least, probably more like two, because he’d also have to find a place to park his car in DC. Unless he could leave it at the hotel. Enjolras probably had, so maybe it wouldn’t be that much of a problem.

Honestly, he couldn’t wait to finally get there. Not just because he wanted to see Enjolras, but also because he was slowly but surely starting to get bored. Road trips were a lot more fun when he wasn’t on his own. He’d driven up to Boston with Enjolras last year for the 50th birthday of Enjolras’ dad. Enjolras had refused to go without him and had been holding his hand with a vice-like grip all weekend.  And they’d had fun in the car. They’d played games and had sung along to songs on the radio, taking snack breaks, and just talking about whatever came to mind. 

Now Grantaire had no one to talk to or to play a game with and he somehow wasn’t able to find a radio station that he wanted to stick with. He started to guess where the other people on the road were going, but soon grew bored of that as well.

Just when he’d decided to give listening to Feuilly’s old cassettes a try, his phone started ringing. Grantaire quickly glanced at it, cursing under his breath, because it was Enjolras and he couldn’t really answer the call while he was driving. He sped up a little and pulled into the next rest stop about ten minutes later, dialing Enjolras’ number.

“Sorry, I couldn’t pick up, I was driving,” Grantaire said once Enjolras had answered his phone.

Enjolras remained silent for a long moment. “You were driving?”

“Yeah,” Grantaire said, belatedly realizing that he probably should have made up some other reason.

“But I have our car,” Enjolras said slowly.

Grantaire smiled. It wasn’t _their_ car. It was Enjolras’ car, but at some point Enjolras had just started referring to most of his and Grantaire’s stuff as theirs. His car was theirs, his TV, his bed, the pots and pans and the armchair that Grantaire had brought from his old apartment. It was all theirs now. “I, um...” Grantaire eyed the bouquet of flowers on the passenger seat. “It’s Feuilly’s car, I’m just helping him out. You know, making a couple of last minute deliveries and all that.”

“Oh, I see,” Enjolras said. “Well, I just wanted to...” He trailed off and Grantaire could almost see him shrug. “You’re busy, so I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“It’s alright, I have a minute or two,” Grantaire said. “What are you up to?”

“Well, I was just going to reply to a couple of emails and then hop in the shower. Nothing too interesting. By the way, I’ll be home around noon tomorrow, so maybe we could have lunch together?”

“That sounds great,” Grantaire said, trying his hardest not to laugh.

“Good,” Enjolras said. He let out a quiet sigh. “I promise I’ll be home for Valentine’s Day next year. Or I’ll just take you with me.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, okay? I’m sure you’ll have a great time tonight.”

Enjolras hummed. “Are you staying up late? I could call you after the party.”

“Sure,” Grantaire said. “Love you.”

When Grantaire pulled back onto the Interstate a few minutes later, he was still grinning broadly.

 

**5:00 PM**

“I have identified a crucial flaw in our plan,” Joly said, staring down at the food that was currently spread all over their kitchen counter.

Bossuet looked up from the recipe in his hands. “You mean that thing we’ve been trying to ignore ever since we started planning this? That we can’t actually cook?”

Joly nodded. “Yes, that.”

“Well, it can’t be that hard. We have instructions.” He grinned and gave Joly a peck on the cheek. “And we have each other.”

“That was very sweet, but I’m not sure if that’s actually going to work in our advantage,” Joly said lowly. There was a possibility that they’d end up blowing up their kitchen. It was unlikely, yes, but still. They really hadn’t thought this through.

“Maybe we should call Combeferre and ask him for help, he’s a really good cook,” Bossuet mumbled. “Or Grantaire?”

Joly sighed. “I’m pretty sure they’re both busy.” He picked up a tomato. “But we can totally do this.”

* * *

Grantaire wasn’t only busy, he was also facing imminent death. He’d somehow managed to get ridiculously lost and was now driving through the streets of DC with people honking at him and his GPS telling him that it was recalculating.

But since it never seemed to get done with the whole recalculating business, Grantaire feared that he’d end up in Virginia sooner rather than later. He pulled over and waited until Feuilly’s GPS had finally found the right route, cursing all the way to Enjolras’ hotel. At least there was a parking lot in front of the hotel, so Grantaire didn’t have to worry about that any longer. He’d probably have to pay a horrendous amount of money for leaving his car there, but he didn’t care all that much about it right now.

He tried to explain the situation to the receptionist as coherently but also as quickly as he could and was thankfully on his way up to Enjolras’ room only five minutes later. He took a deep breath before he knocked, wasting a few seconds on wondering what he’d do if Enjolras wasn’t actually happy to see him.

Enjolras didn’t answer the door at first, so Grantaire knocked again and eventually heard footsteps approach the door. The door opened only by a few inches, Enjolras peering at him with a frown that quickly vanished.

“Grantaire?” He opened the door wider now, revealing that he was only wearing a shirt and boxers. His hair was still dripping, so he’d probably just got out of the shower.

Grantaire held out the flowers. “Hello. I just wanted to–” He didn’t get to finish, because Enjolras pulled him into his hotel room and gave him a languid kiss in the course of which Grantaire dropped his duffle bag and his suit, only barely managing to hold on to the flowers.

After what seemed like an eternity, Enjolras pulled away, still framing Grantaire’s face with his hands. “I can’t believe that you came all the way down there.” He kissed his forehead. “So, when you said you were driving...”

“Well, I was actually driving,” Grantaire said, smiling at him. “I, um, I brought my suit. Combeferre said –”

“Combeferre knew you were coming?”

“Yeah, I wanted to borrow his car, but he gave it to his sister. Anyway, I’m here now and you can do with me whatever you want.”

“That’s tempting in so many ways,” Enjolras said, but let go of him, much to Grantaire’s disappointment. “I was actually just going to take a quick nap. I suppose you could join me?”

“Absolutely,” Grantaire said with a wink. He quickly picked up his suit, still in the suit bag that it had been in for the past six months or so. He hung it up, his duffle bag carelessly thrown next to the bed, the flowers on the night stand, and then wrapped his arms back around Enjolras.

“You do know that I won’t let go of you all evening,” Enjolras said lowly, gently combing his fingers through Grantaire’s hair.

“Oh my,” Grantaire said, grinning sheepishly, “what are all those politicians going to think of that?”

“I’m sure it won’t be a problem. Anyway, it’s none of their business.” Enjolras smiled. “I’ll have to thank Combeferre for telling you to bring your suit.”

“And Feuilly for letting me borrow his car,” Grantaire said, pulling Enjolras closer for another kiss. His fingers snuck under Enjolras’ shirt, dancing across his skin, familiar and warm under Grantaire’s fingertips.

“Wait,” Enjolras mumbled, gently nipping at Grantaire’s bottom lip before he pulled away. “Flowers.”

“They’re probably pretty much dead from the drive here,” Grantaire said. He kept his arms wrapped around Enjolras, following him when he dragged him over to the bed to get his flowers. “You don’t even have a vase.”

“I’ll just put them in the sink.” Enjolras didn’t pick up the flowers, though, but tugged at Grantaire’s shirt instead. “But at first...”

“I thought you wanted to take a nap?” Grantaire asked, grinning when Enjolras’ hands dropped down to open the button of his jeans. “Or maybe not.”

“We still have time,” Enjolras said, slowly lowering himself onto his knees.

Grantaire let out a snort that quickly turned into some sort of a strangled moan. Yes, coming to DC had been an excellent idea.

 

**6:00 PM**

Combeferre was still busy cutting up vegetables when Courfeyrac finally came over. He’d said he’d come by “around six or something,” so Combeferre hadn’t been quite sure when to start cooking. Although Courfeyrac probably wouldn’t mind waiting for a bit.

He’d barely opened the door when Courfeyrac already handed over a colorful bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates. “I also brought a bottle of wine,” Courfeyrac greeted him, pulling the bottle in question out of a shopping bag. “And cupcakes for dessert.”

“This really wasn’t necessary,” Combeferre said lowly.

“But I said I’d bring dessert,” Courfeyrac said with a shrug.

“No, I meant the flowers,” Combeferre muttered, feeling his face get hot. It was obviously a nice gesture, but Courfeyrac had probably just bought them for him because he wanted to be exactly that – _nice_.

Courfeyrac toed off his shoes and hung up his jacket, smiling at Courfeyrac. “Well, it’s Valentine’s Day and I...” He trailed off, his cheeks looking faintly pink all of a suddenly. “And you’re making dinner for me.”

“It’ll still be another twenty minutes or so,” Combeferre said. “You can pick a movie for later in the meantime.”

“Nah,” Courfeyrac said and followed him into the kitchen. “I’ll just,” he grinned and hopped up onto the kitchen counter, “watch you work your magic.”

Combeferre only smiled at him and took a deep breath before he went back to cutting up the rest of his bell paper. He was going to tell him. _Really_. He just hadn’t figured out how to do it yet. “Have you had a good day?”

Courfeyrac nodded, stealing a slice of pepper before Combeferre could toss them into a pan with the chicken. “I went to Marius’ earlier. He has big plans for tonight.”

Combeferre grinned. “Does he?”

“He needed a little encouragement,” Courfeyrac said, eyeing Combeferre’s pots and pans, apparently looking for some more food to steal.

Combeferre gave him a look and then reached for an onion. He probably should have cut those up before Courfeyrac had got here. “You might want to leave.”

“It’s okay,” Courfeyrac said, grinning at him, “I’ll cry with you.”

Combeferre laughed. He was pretty sure the he couldn’t be more in love with Courfeyrac even if he tried.

 

**7:00 PM**

“We did it, guys,” Feuilly said, and flipped over the sign at the door.

“Thank fuck,” Bahorel muttered and pulled Jehan into a hug. Musichetta joined them with a happy sigh.

Feuilly patted her on the back. They really wouldn’t have made it through the day without her.  “Thanks for helping out today. You can head home, we’ll clean everything up.”

“Yeah, I bet Joly and Bossuet can’t wait for you to get home,” Bahorel said. “Unless you want to come have a couple of beers with us.”

“Some other time.” Musichetta smiled and gave them all a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t get too drunk, yeah?”

“Never,” Bahorel said and winked at her.

“Alright,” Feuilly said, once Musichetta was out the door, “let’s get this done quickly so I can get something to eat. You know what, we should go to my place. We can order pizza and play Mario Kart. What do you think?”

Jehan shrugged. “I think I’ll just go home and–”

“No,” Feuilly said and put an arm around Jehan. “Come on, you don’t really want to spend the evening all on your own, do you?”

Jehan shrugged. “Not exactly, but I probably won’t be the best company.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“We don’t care if you’re grumpy as fuck,” Bahorel said and picked up Jehan. “We’ll go clean up the back.”

“Fine,” Feuilly said, smirking at Jehan, who was looking back at him over Bahorel’s shoulder with a tentative smile on his face.

* * *

“We’re going to be late.”

“And whose fault is that?” Grantaire asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “Not mine.”

Enjolras pursed his lips, his fingers skimming down the lapels of Grantaire’s suit jacket. “Where’s your tie?”

“I’m not so sure,” Grantaire said. He’d thought he’d packed one, but apparently that had been some sort of stress-induced hallucination.

Enjolras pulled a tie out of his suitcase. “Just put on this one.”

“Really, you’re giving me your politician tie?”

“It’s not a politician tie,” Enjolras said gruffly.

“But it totally makes you look like one,” Grantaire said, making an attempt at tying the tie without Enjolras’ help, failing miserably. Honestly, events like that just weren’t for him. He did like the food and the free drinks, but that was about it. Enjolras, on the other hand, he knew how to talk to those people that Grantaire just wanted to roll his eyes at constantly.

“You look nice in it,” Enjolras mumbled, tugging the tie into place.

Grantaire smiled. “And you’re sure that you want me to come with you?” He’d asked about five times already. And he didn’t want Enjolras to think that he had to take him just because he’d shown up out of the blue.

“Yes, of course,” Enjolras said, giving him a chaste kiss. “And now I don’t even have to send you a picture of my suit.”

Grantaire hummed in agreement. “Seeing it in person is so much better anyway.”

Enjolras smiled and took his hand. “Ready to go?”

“Just a second,” Grantaire mumbled, pulling Enjolras down for a kiss. Enjolras probably wouldn’t let him do this all evening, so he had to do it while they were still alone. Quite frankly, Grantaire wasn’t a huge fan of making out in public for all the world to see either, but he liked to steal a kiss every now and then, especially because it always made Enjolras blush.

“We’re already...” Enjolras’ breath hitched when Grantaire pressed a kiss to his jaw and slowly moved down to his neck. “We’re late,” he whispered. “Come on.”

“Fine,” Grantaire said. One more kiss, then he pulled away, grinning at how flustered Enjolras looked.

Enjolras cleared his throat and tugged at his jacket. “Later on,” he said, the corner of his lips twitching, “I’ll have my revenge.”

“Revenge, huh?” Grantaire asked, giving Enjolras’ ass a quick pinch.

Enjolras gave him a look that probably should have been serious. “Let’s just go.”

 

**8:00 PM**

“Are you going to tell me what exactly went down in our kitchen today?” Musichetta asked, eyeing both of them with raised eyebrows.

“Nothing,” Bossuet said, smiling innocently.

Joly nodded. “Nothing at all.” He tapped on Musichetta’s menu. “Have you decided what you’re going to have?”

“Not lasagna,” Bossuet whispered.

Joly snorted, quickly ducking behind his menu. Their own lasagna, well, it hadn’t turned out so well. He and Bossuet had realized very, very quickly that they were going to need a plan B. One that wouldn’t involve the three of them spending the evening in their apartment, because they’d known that they wouldn’t be able to get rid of the smell of burnt food until Musichetta got home.

They’d called a couple of restaurants until they’d finally found one that would still take reservations. Bossuet had quickly handed Musichetta her flowers, but had then taken them away from her about ten seconds later to put them back into the living room, telling her that they’d be going out. Thankfully Musichetta had just rolled with it, but she was very obviously curious.

“Seriously,” she said, “something smelled weird. What did you do?”

Bossuet shrugged and seemed to find his glass of water really interesting all of a sudden.

“Am I going to be able to cook tomorrow?”

“Oh, sure,” Joly said. “There was just a little incident.”

“But nothing to worry about,” Bossuet added quickly.

Musichetta smiled and reached for Bossuet’s hand. “Well, I’m glad that you two didn’t hurt yourselves, but I still–”

“Hey, is that Marius?”

At first Joly thought that Bossuet might just be trying to distract Musichetta, but when he turned around, he did indeed see Marius and Cosette sitting at a table in the back and Marius was pulling something out of his jacket.

Bossuet’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit, is he proposing?”

 

**9:00 PM**

Courfeyrac was beaming down at his phone. It was partly the wine’s fault – basically he thought that everything was great. He was sitting next to Combeferre, their arms pressed together, and they were sharing a blanket and Combeferre had been smiling at him all evening and Courfeyrac just loved it when he smiled.

“Marius?” Combeferre asked, because that’s just how smart he was. He just knew everything and Courfeyrac wanted to kiss him so badly. Which was also the wine’s fault. Even the most innocent thoughts he had about Combeferre somehow turned into Courfeyrac wanting to kiss him.

“Yep,” Courfeyrac said and put his phone back down on the table. “Guess we’ll get an invitation for a wedding soon.”

“That’s nice,” Combeferre said, smiling again.

Honestly, he needed to stop doing that, because Courfeyrac just couldn’t take it anymore.

Combeferre’s phone gave a ding as well. “Is Marius sending a group message?” Courfeyrac asked.

“Let’s see,” Combeferre mumbled, his finger a little clumsy as he unlocked his phone. He read whatever message he’d received with a completely straight face at first, then he bit his lip, looking almost a little embarrassed all of a sudden. Combeferre briefly glanced at him and then put his phone back down without another word.

Courfeyrac raised his eyebrows in question.

“It’s... nothing,” Combeferre said.

“Okay,” Courfeyrac mumbled, definitely confused now. Obviously Combeferre didn’t have to tell him _everything_ , but he usually wasn’t this secretive. Maybe it was a guy. Maybe he’d rather be somewhere else right now.

“Courfeyrac, are you okay?” Combeferre asked. “You look... I don’t know.”

“No, I’m fine.” Courfeyrac nodded, probably a bit too enthusiastically. “Everything’s fine.”

Combeferre frowned, his eyes darting to his phone and then back to Courfeyrac. “It was just Grantaire. He came by earlier and... well, he was just telling me about that party he’s at with Enjolras.”

“Oh...” Well, Combeferre could have just said that in the first place. “Are they having fun?”

“It seems that they are.” Combeferre picked up the bottle of wine. “More wine?”

“Yes, please,” Courfeyrac said and held out his glass.

They emptied the bottle rapidly, listening to the radio, humming – or in Courfeyrac’s case, singing –along. Unsurprisingly, between belting out song lyrics, he still found time to think about kissing Combeferre.

Courfeyrac inched a little closer, subtly, just so he could lean his head against Combeferre’s shoulder. He took another sip of his wine, feeling warm and fuzzy, and also really talkative. Which was already bad when he wasn’t tipsy, but even worse when he was. “You know,” he said, “I really like this song, I mean, you know how he’s singing about kissing himself because he’s so hot, I understand that, I wish I could kiss myself. Because, I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but I’m a good kisser and I should be kissing someone.” He should be kissing _Combeferre_ , but he fortunately wasn’t drunk enough to say that out loud.

Combeferre only laughed, looking at him fondly. Courfeyrac hated it when he did that, because it made him feel things. Bad things that he shouldn’t be feeling about his best friend.

 “Seriously,” Courfeyrac went on, because apparently he hadn’t embarrassed himself enough already, “if there were Oscars for kissing, I’d have at least a billion.”

“Maybe...” Combeferre trailed off, staring at him for a long moment. “Maybe you should just kiss me, then.”

Yes, Courfeyrac was pretty sure that Combeferre had actually just said that. He knew that he shouldn’t, not when they both weren’t entirely sober, but Combeferre was looking at him expectantly, so Courfeyrac just leaned in, carefully planting a quick kiss on Combeferre’s lips.

His whole body was tingling when he pulled away. He wanted to do it again. And again and again. And he wanted to hold Combeferre’s hand and have dinner with him at the Musain and he wanted to snuggle up in bed with him and maybe he should mention that at some point.

“Later on,” Combeferre said, reaching out to cup Courfeyrac’s cheek, “when we’re both sober, I’m going to ask you out on a date.”

“Thank fuck,” Courfeyrac mumbled, “I was afraid that I’d have to do it and I’m so nervous. Honestly, I’ve been nervous all evening, because I promised myself that I’d tell you tonight and I bought you flowers and chocolate and I was scared that you might not like the chocolate and–”

“I do like the chocolate,” Combeferre interrupted.

“Good,” Courfeyrac whispered, leaning closer, “can we kiss again now?”

 

**10:00 PM**

“Thanks for dinner, you two,” Musichetta said, first kissing Bossuet’s forehead, then the tip of Joly’s nose. “And please don’t ever try to make lasagna again.” She’d been pretty horrified when she’d seen what was left of Joly and Bossuet’s cooking adventure. Joly really couldn’t blame her.

“Not without you at least,” Bossuet said lowly.

“I don’t even know how you managed to burn it like that,” Musichetta mumbled.

“It’s a very special skill,” Joly said. He pulled up their duvet to make sure that they wouldn’t get cold, but Musichetta and Bossuet were usually better than an electric blanket and the three of them usually kept each other warm quite well.

“Well, it’s very sweet of you that you tried,” Musichetta said. “And going out for dinner was a delight, I mean, we got to see Marius propose.”

Bossuet laughed. “When are we gonna tell him that we saw him cry when Cosette said yes?”

“We won’t,” Musichetta said, giving him a gentle shove. She lay back down again with a grin, only barely suppressing a yawn. “Well, I’m ready for a nap.”

“I’ll get the lights,” Bossuet muttered and hopped out of bed.

“Thanks, love,” Musichetta said, cuddling a little closer to Joly.

Bossuet joined them only a couple of seconds later, trying to hug the both of them as best as he could.

* * *

“This is bullshit, I want a rematch.”

“You want _another_ rematch?” Jehan asked, eyebrows raised.

Bahorel only grumbled something unintelligible and put down the controller, leaning back with a sigh. “Fine, I give up.”

Jehan smirked. At least _something_ was going well for him today. “We should probably head home anyway,” he said, nodding at Feuilly, who was fast asleep in his armchair, feet propped up on the coffee table and snoring quietly.

Bahorel grinned and grabbed a blanket, carefully draping it over Feuilly. “He’s had a long day,” Bahorel muttered and then yawned heartily.

“We all did.” Jehan smiled and then turned off the TV and Feuilly’s old N64.

“You know,” Bahorel said and reached for another blanket, “Feuilly probably wouldn’t mind if we stayed over. Because I’m really not in the mood to go anywhere right now.” He scooted over to make space for Jehan.

Well, it was drizzling and Jehan didn’t feel much like being alone right now, so he might as well stick around. “I guess you’re right,” he said.

Bahorel tossed him one end of the blanket with a grin. “We can share,” he said and reached out to turn off the lamp next to the couch. 

* * *

“Do you want–”

“No,” Courfeyrac said, fingers slowly running through Combeferre’s hair.

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask,” Combeferre said, smiling at Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac, who was currently straddling his hips and who’d been busy kissing him breathless for the past hour or so. Combeferre was pretty sure that this was the best Valentine’s Day of his entire life. He was so lucky. This whole evening had worked out in his favor and he was glad that he didn’t have to tell Grantaire that he’d chickened out. Especially after Grantaire’s _have you told him yet??_ text.

“Well,” Courfeyrac mumbled, giving him a quick kiss, “whatever you were going to ask probably would have resulted in us not kissing anymore,” another kiss, this time planted on his cheek, “and I really don’t want that.”

Combeferre laughed. “I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to stay the night.”

“Oh,” Courfeyrac said, grinning broadly, “in that case, please forget that I said no.”

 

**11:00 PM**

“You need to...” Enjolras laughed, his hands dipping back down to Grantaire’s hips. “If we want to get back into our room, you’re going to have to move over.”

Grantaire stuck out his bottom lip, but moved an inch to the left. He’d quite liked being pinned to the door by Enjolras. Really, the door handle digging into his back hadn’t even been that bad.

“It’s better than someone finding us making out in the hallway,” Enjolras mumbled.

After some fumbling on Enjolras’ part, because Grantaire just couldn’t keep his hands off him, which seemed to distract Enjolras quite a bit, the door swung open and they finally stumbled inside.

They’d had a nice evening and Grantaire had got to listen to Enjolras work his magic for hours on end, trying not to smile too broadly when Enjolras had introduced him as his boyfriend to every single person he’d talked to.

Grantaire shrugged off his suit jacket and let himself fall into bed with a content sigh, kicking off his shoes. “Come here.” He just wanted to curl up with Enjolras and sleep for as long as he’d let him.

“Just a second,” Enjolras said. He walked into the bathroom and reemerged a couple of minutes later, now only wearing his boxers. And he was checking his phone.

“Seriously?” Grantaire asked. “Stop checking your emails.”

Enjolras pursed his lips, but did put down his phone, looking at Grantaire, an eyebrow arched. “Are you going to sleep in that?”

Grantaire only hummed, smirking when Enjolras knelt down next to him on the bed, fingers slowly wandering up his sides. Enjolras took off his tie, helped him out of his pants, unbuttoned his shirt, and once Grantaire was wearing nothing but his boxers, Enjolras flopped down next to him. He wrapped an arm around him, sighing softly. “I’m so tired.”

“Thank God,” Grantaire mumbled, turning over just enough so he could nuzzle into Enjolras’ hair. “I’m fucking knackered.”

Enjolras snorted quietly and made an attempt at tucking them in. He didn’t manage at first, poking at Grantaire until he finally lifted his hips so Enjolras could pry the duvet out from under both of them.

“Thank you for coming,” Enjolras mumbled when he’d turned off the lights.

Grantaire wrapped his arms around him as tightly. “Thank you for spending the evening with me.”

“It’s a shame that we have to go back home in two separate cars.”

“I’m sure we’ll survive.” Grantaire kissed Enjolras, smiling against his skin.

Enjolras made a content little noise and pillowed his head on Grantaire’s chest, hooking a leg around Grantaire’s. Grantaire had missed this so much, but he didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t want Enjolras to feel bad for doing what made him happy and if that meant a lot of travelling then Grantaire just had to deal with that.

“You know,” Enjolras mumbled, “that thing with the roses is bound to get expensive at some point.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Grantaire said. “If it gets really expensive, it just means that we’ve been together for a long time.” And that really wasn’t a bad thing at all.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you still enjoyed it, even though it was over two weeks late.


End file.
